Last Farewell
by DianeB
Summary: Five years later, Callie gets an invitation in the mail. Speculative future-fic, with flashbacks, based on S5 episodes through BYHO. Contains elements of Hahn/Torres and Robbins/Torres, but, deep down, it's not really about either.


Title: Last Farewell  
Author: DianeB  
Rating: T

Summary: All-narrative, speculative future-fic, based on S5 episodes through "Beat Your Heart Out." Inspired by The Other Liz's story, "LoveLustLonging." Callie receives an invitation. Old memories surface. New ones are created. This story contains elements of Callie/Erica and Callie/Arizona, but is not really about either. Just so you know.

Author's Note: Thanks to my Mighty Editor Goddess Brenda S., and to Jules 68, who gleefully provides an honest, objective opinion. Written in early February, 2009. This is my _thirteenth Grey's Anatomy _story. I know I keep saying I'm done writing about these two women, but apparently my muse thinks otherwise.

Disclaimer: Written with the understanding that episodes aired after BYHO will likely ruin this scenario. I own nothing of _Grey's Anatomy_, because if I did, Brooke Smith would still be playing Erica Hahn, and she and Callie would still be together. Errors regarding Massachusetts or locations therein are entirely my fault. Caution: This is Femslash (lite)! Do not read it if this sort of thing bothers you.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Callie was about to toss her mail onto the coffee table and move on to ordering a pizza when a distinctive envelope in the middle of the pile caught her eye. Pulling it from between her cable bill and her bank statement, Callie noticed right away the color, weight, and feel of it.

High class. And lavender. Catching a fragrance, she waved it in front of her nose. _Scented _with lavender, as well. She looked for a return address on both the front and back of the envelope, but found none. She checked the postmark. Boston.

She was truly flummoxed now. She didn't know anyone who lived in Boston. Or anywhere in New England, for that matter. But the envelope was addressed to her full name and title, Dr. Calliope Iphegenia Torres, so whoever sent it clearly knew her.

Way too curious to bother searching for her letter opener (and having no idea where to begin looking, anyway), Callie slid her finger under a corner of the envelope's flap and promptly received a paper cut. "Shit." Yanking her finger from the envelope and sticking it unceremoniously into her mouth to relieve the stinging, she marched to the kitchen for a butter knife and slit the envelope open with surgical precision.

Careful to keep her still-bleeding finger out of the way, Callie drew out an unpretentious but elegant invitation, immediately noticing dark purple calligraphy standing out in rich contrast to heavyweight lavender paper.

_You are cordially invited_, the invitation began, _to the marriage of Erica Hahn and Kathryn Daniels on Sunday, June 23, 2014, at four-thirty o'clock, at Berkshire Botanical Garden, Stockbridge, Massachusetts_. There followed the usual content regarding RSVP and driving directions to the Garden, but Callie didn't see any of that.

Heart pounding and eyes suddenly burning with tears, Callie lifted a hand to her mouth and struggled for a breath. Memories seized her with such force, it was as if it had all happened yesterday, instead of over five years ago.

**oOo oOo oOo**

She and Erica had been able to reconcile with one another, about a week after Erica left Callie standing in front of the hospital after their heated argument regarding Izzie Stevens…and regarding the nature of their relationship. Erica had apologized for accusing Callie of not being "lesbian enough," and Callie had reciprocated by apologizing for siding with Izzie and not even trying to see Erica's side of what had happened with her patient.

As to the "nature of their relationship," that was another matter entirely. They were not blind to the awkwardness between them, nor to the sharp turn things took when Erica came out. After all, Erica's lesbianism was not something new; it was the way she had been born. The only thing new was Erica's own realization of it. But the knowledge, no matter the timing, had brought Erica's life into keen focus, and it was clear she was ready, even eager, to make up for lost time, to "see leaves."

But it was equally as clear that Callie was not in the same place. At the time, Callie wanted so much to "see leaves" with Erica. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how loudly she denied it, she knew in her heart that Erica was right, that she was fooling herself if she thought she could "kind of" be a lesbian just because she was currently starry-eyed over a woman. Admitting that to Erica had been painful for both of them, but staying together in the face of such disparity just seemed wrong on too many levels. They spent one final bittersweet night together in Callie's new apartment, making love and weeping, and in the colorless light of a rainy Seattle morning said their last farewell.

Forcing herself from Callie's arms, Erica told Callie she would not report Izzie to UNOS, but neither would she be returning to Seattle Grace. Erica left the apartment without another word – much in the way Callie had left Erica on the morning of Erica's coming out – and that was the last time Callie had seen Erica.

None of this, however, did Callie share with any of her colleagues at the hospital, particularly not Mark Sloan, though she'd been glad she hadn't had to lie to him. Her anguish after the homeless guy died on the table had been real enough, since she hadn't yet heard from Erica, but Callie kept the actual reconciliation to herself. Though her heartbreak had been complete, and her usual MO was to spill all at the first opportunity, Callie had for once made the right decision to keep silent and protect what little solace her final night with Erica had offered.

Three weeks after that morning of goodbye, Callie heard through the medical grapevine that Erica had left Seattle entirely, going east. Callie had never wanted to find out _where _in the east Erica might have specifically gone, but apparently it was Boston, and Callie wondered for a moment if she'd ended up at Mass Gen. Maybe so. She knew that hospital's ranking had gone up from number four to number three, and Callie suspected if Erica _was_ at Massachusetts General, this was the reason for it.

During the weeks immediately following Erica's departure, Callie had courageously tried to stay in the sex game. She sought out Mark Sloan, who willingly obliged, though all he could talk about was Little Grey and how the nubile intern was literally throwing herself at him.

Callie and Mark decided to form a support group of sorts for each other – she to keep him from being further tempted by Lexie Grey and he to keep her from freaking over the openly flirtatious Sadie Harris. They were successful up to a point, but in the end Mark went for Lexie like a man "going to Denver," and Callie, well, Callie was not surprised to discover that not only didn't she care for Sadie's antics, she didn't care for Sadie herself.

A very short time after that, in a twist that would seem totally unbelievable to anyone outside Seattle Grace Hospital, Arizona Robbins ambushed Callie in the ladies room at Joe's. After a sweet little pep talk, the perky peds surgeon leaned in, placed her hand against Callie's cheek _just in the same way Erica had first done in the elevator_, and planted one directly on Callie's full lips. Pulling back, Arizona offered a bright smile and a come-hither comment about how Callie would know who'd be "lining up for her," before turning on her heel and exiting, leaving Callie stunned but grinning like an idiot and wondering what _the hell_ it was about her and blonde women.

There was, however, no denying that Arizona Robbins, except for being a _brilliant blonde surgeon_, was the polar opposite of Erica Hahn. She was outgoing, vivacious, and funny – and _not_ a lesbian "virgin" by any stretch. And yet…though the sex had been dazzling (not to mention educational), their encounters invariably left Callie feeling bereft in a way she could not fathom.

Unfortunately or not, Arizona ended up not staying around long enough for the two of them to establish anything much deeper than the sex, so Callie was never able to identify what had caused her melancholy. They parted friends, swore they would keep in touch, did for a while, and then gradually lost contact.

After that, Callie grew herself a thicker emotional skin, if for no other reason than to protect her pummeled heart. That's not to say she didn't enjoy a good _romp_ every now and again with partners of both sexes, but for the most part, Callie deliberately chose celibacy, instead of _it_ choosing _her_, and found to her surprise that it suited her just fine.

On the professional front, it was much different. Callie attacked her work, kept a day ahead of the very latest techniques and procedures, and of course became the kick-ass Orthopedics attending she was destined to become.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Still standing in her kitchen, Callie braved another peek at the invitation, running the pad of her thumb over the raised purple script, studying the document, wondering if Erica had actually handled this particular invitation or if she had allowed someone else, _Kathryn_, to. The mailing address was printed in the same calligraphy, so there was no way to tell handwriting, and Callie, thinking back, realized she could not remember if she had ever seen Erica's handwriting outside of the occasional chart. They had never exchanged love notes, because their relationship had not progressed to the "note-writing" stage. Sighing, Callie went to place the invitation on the kitchen table and as she did so, a piece of folded notepaper fell from it, fluttering to the floor. Callie bent to retrieve it, unfolding it on the way back up, and knew it was a personal note from Erica herself.

An adrenaline spike weakened her knees. She grabbed a kitchen chair and sat before she fell. Handling the note as if it were made of spun glass, she read:

_My dearest Callie,_

_I hope this invitation hasn't put you into cardiac arrest! I know I should have kept in touch, but it was just too hard at first, and then later, after I met Kathryn, I started to tell myself you didn't need to hear from me, that too much time had passed and there was nothing more to be said. Kathryn has told me time and again that I've been wrong about that. She told me if I didn't invite you to our wedding, she wouldn't marry me! I'm sure you can appreciate that brand of audacity._

Smiling, Callie took an uneven breath, smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in the paper, and stood with the intention of getting a soda. Once standing, she was unable to move. Dropping back into the chair, she continued reading.

_But I knew I couldn't just send the invitation without also sending a note. Callie, I know this is going to sound stupid, but I've always been glad that you were the one who brought me out. It's shaped my outlook on everything. Oh, don't get all full of yourself now, I'm not saying I don't make a move without thinking of that "glasses" moment, I'm just saying it could have been anyone, but I'm glad it was you._

_I know you're busy, and I really shouldn't beg, but_ please _come to my wedding. It would make me so happy to see you again, and I really want you to meet Kathryn. I think you'll have a lot in common. Please say you'll come. I hope to hear from you very soon._

_Love always,  
__Erica_

Callie didn't know how long she sat at the table, except that it was now dark outside. The only light in the apartment was coming from the night light in the bathroom, doing its best to cast _Blair Witch_ shadows into the hallway. She looked up vacantly and her stomach took that moment to rumble loudly, reminding Callie of the pizza she'd been going to order a thousand years ago. Sighing, she placed her palms flat on the table to either side of Erica's note and levered herself to a standing position.

"Well, Calliope old girl," she said aloud to herself, "I guess you've got a decision to make." She went to the refrigerator, took out a soda, downed half of it in two gulps, and put the can on the counter. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she belched like a sailor, speed-dialed for a pizza, picked up the invitation, and walked into the living room. Looking around the dim room, she puzzled as to why she had come in here, feeling disassociated. Tapping the invitation against her fingers, she remembered.

Going to the couch, Callie sat down and rummaged through the coffee table's drawer for a pen that worked. Eventually finding one, she pulled out the little RSVP card from the invitation and caught another whiff of lavender that brought her up short.

Leaning back against the couch, Callie wiped her eyes and laughed at herself. It was silly to cry. She was _not_ unhappy, or even remotely jealous. She was, she guessed, just a little sad for "might've beens." But sitting there in the shadowy darkness, Callie decided she wasn't going to allow memories of the past spoil the future. Wiping her eyes again and clearing her throat, she leaned forward, picked up the pen, checked "Yes" on the card, and added a short note at the bottom:

_Dear Erica,_

_Are you_ kidding _me? I wouldn't miss your wedding for the world! It sounds like you're very happy, and I can't wait to meet Kathryn…_

End.

**oOo oOo oOo**

_Let the buffeting winds bear away all blame and distress.  
How fair and good were the things we shared together._

-- Sappho, 612 B.C.


End file.
